


Holiness by the Sea

by starlightwalking



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Bisexuality, F/F, Finwëan Ladies Week 2019, First Kinslaying (Tolkien), Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Marriage Bonds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 15:17:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20708156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlightwalking/pseuds/starlightwalking
Summary: Eärwen receives a visitor after the Kinslaying at Alqualondë.





	Holiness by the Sea

**Author's Note:**

> For all I've shipped these two since I found out about their existence, this is somehow the first fic I've written for them. Written for FLW Day 5: Ladies Who Married In.

"No!" she cried, throwing the nearest object—a book—at the door. "Leave me be! Haven't we had enough—enough _evils_ for the day?"

Heedless of her shouts, the handle turned and the door opened. Eärwen rose with clenched fists to push away the intruder, her eyes red with tears.

"I—I'm sorry," said a fragile voice. She wore a dark cloak, the hood drawn to cover her face, but Eärwen would know that voice anywhere.

Eärwen stared, trembling, as Anairë pushed back her hood. Her tear-streaked face was nearly as red as her own, her eyes almost as puffy from crying.

"I can—I can leave, if you want me to," she croaked. "I know you...I know the last person you want to see right now is a Ñoldo, but...I didn't know who else to come to."

Eärwen didn't know if she wanted to hug her or slap her. The shores were still red with blood; her brother's body had yet to be buried; the betrayal of the Ñoldor she had come to love as family had pierced her heart. She understood, now, why Míriel had turned to endless sleep rather than face Fëanáro.

And yet, she couldn't think of anyone else who knew her heart better or shared her grief more. She fell into Anairë's arms, weeping fresh tears, clutching her friend like she was afraid she would dissolve into dust.

Anairë held her just as tightly, shaking with her own sobs, and Eärwen felt her fëa's pain mingle with her own. In the void created when she closed her marriage-bond as Arafinwë fled, the feeling of another's spirit so close and so harmonious with her own was a greater comfort than she could have anticipated.

"How did you—" Eärwen rasped. "How did you get in here?"

"Passed myself off as a maid," Anairë whispered. "No one asked questions. I didn't let them see—see my hair..."

Eärwen almost could have laughed. Anairë? A maid? She was the noblest of all Finwë's daughters-in-law, most beautiful and holy. Eärwen knew she was lovely herself, but she'd spent a childhood at sea and had the rope-marks and calluses to prove it. Nerdanel worked in the forges; Elemmírë was gorgeous in her own peculiar Vanyarin way; but it was Anairë who had been raised a noblewoman and who bore her title of princess better than Eärwen wore sandals. How could a priestess and politician be mistaken for anything other than the wondrous woman she was?

"I came as soon as I...as soon as I could bear to," Anairë continued. "I can't believe that they—that they're _gone_. That they could do such a ghastly thing as—as slay their own kin— That they could flee without facing judgement...!"

Reminded of why her friend was here, Eärwen turned away, burying her face in her pillow. "They will be found," she said, her voice muffled. "And then...there will be justice."

"I'm almost as afraid of that," Anairë murmured. "Eärwen, why do I still love them? I am just as dreadful as they for that..."

Eärwen raised her head. "I love them too," she rasped. "If Arafinwë returned..." She grimaced. "I do not think I would be strong enough to turn him away. I—I'm so _empty_. Have you...?"

Anairë nodded, a shadow in her eyes. "Nerdanel, also. I spoke with her, briefly...she'd never cut _him _off entirely, even after a decade apart. But now..."

Eärwen fought back a wave of hatred as she thought of Fëanáro. "This is _his_ fault," she spat. "O! if he had broken those accursed jewels...!"

Anairë rested a hand on Eärwen's cheek. "Don't lose yourself in fury," she said gently. "Hatred does not become you."

"It is _my_ people who were slaughtered!" Eärwen cried, slapping her hand away. "Not yours! I know what happened, Anairë. _He_ and his sons may have led the slaughter, but _your_ husband and your children—"

"Ñolofinwë did not!" Anairë shouted, leaping to her feet. Even furious, she moved with a dancer's grace; her service to Nessa showed itself in every movement. "He may follow that treacherous fool to the end of all their lives, but he is no Kinslayer!"

"Findekáno is," Eärwen hissed. "I never thought the boy to be _evil_, but maybe the rumors are true—maybe Russandol rubbed off on him!"

Anairë flinched as if she had been hit. "Don't say such things," she whispered. "Please, Eärwen. My heart is already too broken."

"I speak the truth," Eärwen spat. "My brother is dead, Anairë. Elulindo was slain by _your_ kin. Ainairos is—he's raging about revenge. My father has shut him up, has him under guard, but if he knew you were here...it does not matter that you forsook Ñolofinwë before the slaughter. He would strike you down."

Anairë crumpled to the floor, her cloak falling off entirely. "I would deserve it," she rasped. "I should have gone with them. I am a Ñoldo traitor, just like them."

Eärwen could feel her fëa wilting, and she was struck by a pang of guilt. She sank to the floor beside her friend, cradling her in her arms. "No, no," she murmured. "Anairë, I am sorry. I spoke too harshly; I didn't mean those cruel things. We mustn't fight, I couldn't—I couldn't bear to lose you, too..."

"I stayed for you," Anairë wept, "o, Eärwen, I love you. I knew I would not follow Ñolo, I could not... I only wish our children could be spared! I heard—I heard Artanis fought, also, but against the Ñoldor. If she is a Kinslayer, which—which I am sure she is not," she added hurriedly as Eärwen flinched, "even still, she would be better than the rest of us."

"I stayed for you, also," Eärwen said softly. "I begged Ara not to go, but he made his choice. If I knew what was to come, I would not have even considered it, but...they left, all of them. Even little Artaresto. I was tempted, if only to keep our family whole. But I couldn't bear to leave you."

Anairë stared at her, and Eärwen could feel her fëa burn in a way she had only felt from one other person. The feeling terrified her, but it burned within her, also: a love, a desire, a need...

"I love you," Eärwen confessed, and she said it with her fëa also, so that Anairë could know the depth of her meaning.

Anairë leaned closer, her lips almost brushing Eärwen's. Eärwen could hold back no longer: she kissed her, gently at first, then with growing desperation, clinging to Anairë and feeling her warmth, her presence, the spark of her spirit, the mingling of fëa that precursored the union she so craved—

Anairë drew back, still weeping. "Eärwen, we cannot," she said in a broken voice. "Even if—even if we have closed our marriage bonds, they still exist...and I am not good enough, not good enough for you—you would have another Ñoldo, so soon after my people murdered yours?"

"You are what I need," Eärwen said, not letting her go. "You know my pain like no other. You are my dearest friend. And—no matter what you say, what I said in my grief, you are innocent of my brother's blood. You are all I have."

"And our husbands?" Anairë demanded. "It is not too late for them to return. It is not too late for them to forsake Fëanáro."

"Don't say that name in this house," Eärwen warned. "Our husbands left us. We owe them nothing. I may love Ara still, but _you_ are the one who stayed. For me. For us." She slid her hand up Anairë's skirt, feeling the smoothness of her leg. "And we would never have met—_they _would never have _been_—had it not been for a second chance on Finwë's part."

Anairë moaned as Eärwen leaned forward, kissing her breast. "Second chances?" she breathed. "Eärwen, when I saw you on your wedding day—I wished I had known you before we met our husbands. I would have chosen you first, had I that chance."

Eärwen felt dizzy, overwhelmed by the onslaught of emotion radiating from Anairë's fëa. In these tense years, she and Arafinwë had been careful about what they let slip through their bond, even in lovemaking, but this—Anairë was open, her heart bleeding and burning all at once, and Eärwen could feel her every thought.

She kissed Anairë again, without hesitation this time, and lost herself in the taste of her lips. Her body was aflame, and Anairë added kindling to the fire, grief and anger and pent-up desire mingling in hungry kisses, ungentle touches, guiding Anairë's hand up her skirt, between her legs—

"Ai, Eru," she cried out as Anairë caressed her in places only one other had before touched. Anairë paused, drawing back her hand, fear sparking in her eyes.

Eärwen groaned, wriggling closer to her friend, pleading with her body for Anairë to continue, but she did not.

"You would bind yourself to me?" Anairë said, her heart in her throat. "Eärwen, I love you, but we...this is..."

She did not say the word, _wrong_. But Eärwen knew what she meant; she knew the laws as well as Anairë.

"_Wrong_ is what happened on those shores," Eärwen said. "_Wrong_ is our husbands leaving us. _Wrong_ is the choices we've had to make, between family and goodness. Anairë, you are the holy woman between us. Can you tell me this is wrong? That I want you, that I would swear by you?"

Anairë stared at her for a long moment, and Eärwen waited for her answer. This time, she was determined that Anairë would be the one to take initiative.

She could only hold back for so long; the desire was as strong within her as it was in Eärwen. She drew Eärwen close again, kissing her slowly, murmuring, "You are right. In all this grief and horror, a little holiness by the sea can only be a blessed thing."

"Then bless me, my priestess," Eärwen whispered, and this time, Anairë complied.

**Author's Note:**

> A few headcanons I used for this fic:
> 
> \- Elemmírë is Findis’ wife.  
\- Eärwen has several brothers, one of whom was named Elulindo. Ainairos was a Teler whose brother was killed at the Kinslaying and who spoke against the Noldor to the Valar. I thought it would be interesting if I combined those two stories, making Eärwen, Elulindo, and Ainairos all siblings and having Elulindo die at the Kinslaying.  
\- Anairë is a priestess of Nessa; her name means ‘holy’ so I took it from there.
> 
> Thanks for reading and commenting!  
You can find me on tumblr [@arofili](http://arofili.tumblr.com/), and check out the [Finwëan Ladies Week blog](http://finweanladiesweek.tumblr.com/) too!


End file.
